


Too Easily

by lazaefair



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Jazz Musicians AU, M/M, Musicians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-13 05:46:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15357558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazaefair/pseuds/lazaefair
Summary: Billy sings. Goody appreciates.





	Too Easily

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this gorgeous photoset](http://lazaefair.tumblr.com/post/176061076567/oddly-drawn-thoughtss-i-fall-in-love-too) by oddly-drawn-thoughtss. [Link to the Chet Baker song in the fic.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3zrSoHgAAWo)

Private concert in his tiny studio apartment, no accompaniment, stripped down to shirtsleeves and bare feet, glass of soju in hand, eyes half-closed, nowhere to look except at his audience of one. It’s some really corny shit. The embarrassment of what he’s doing burns in Billy’s chest - except there’s that fucking look in Goody’s eyes. Adoration, worship. Something that makes the back of his neck prickle and almost makes his voice shake.

Almost. Not quite. He’s too good for that. 

_I fall in love too easily,_ he sings, low and smooth, drawing each phrase out. _I fall in love too fast. I fall in love too terribly hard for love to ever last._

There’s a sheen to the blue of Goody’s eyes, a familiar one, that goes hand-in-hand with his slightly parted lips and unusually still posture, sprawled out on the ratty couch. No twitching, no fidgeting or nervous reaching for the closest bottle at hand. Drinking Billy in instead. It’s why Billy sings for him, the kind of clichéd romcom crap he used to make fun of his sister for liking, but fuck. If all it takes to make a small oasis in time for them - a refuge from the demons chasing them - is to pull out the fucking Chet Baker, he’ll sing until he’s hoarse. Has done so, before.

_My heart should be well schooled, ‘cause I’ve been fooled in the past._

The bridge comes up, the part where usually Goody steps forward on the stage in whatever dive of a jazz club they’re in with his well-worn trumpet and swings into a soft solo, all technical perfection and devastating soul to sweep the audience away in melancholy dreams. But tonight his trumpet’s packed away, nestled in velvet in its case behind the couch. Billy hums instead, improvising his own solo, melodic vibrations climbing up from his chest into his throat as he comes closer to Goody.

He sets his glass down on the coffee table, watching Goody watch his movements, hypnotized as any snake charmer’s pet. Eases himself into Goody’s lap, knees on either side of Goody’s hips, reaches up to cradle his jaw in his hands. Leans in and breathes the last words into Goody’s mouth. _But still I fall in love so easily._

_I fall in love too fast._


End file.
